


the icing on the cake

by poisonrationalitie



Series: Harry Potter Expanded Universe [27]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cake, Christmas, Food, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Kid Fic, Next Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 02:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonrationalitie/pseuds/poisonrationalitie
Summary: Hugo's a good kid, but this is driving him mad. // x-posted from ff.net





	the icing on the cake

**Author's Note:**

> For the Quarterly Event Sticker Collection. Rare Stickers - Halloween #1 - Candy: write about someone with a sweet tooth.

Hugo was generally a good kid. Rose may have gotten better grades in their by-owl schooling, but she also got into plenty of trouble, whether it was by arguing or back-chatting or staying up too late or even helping out Fred and James with their pranks. Hugo was the quieter of the two, hard-working and, in his sister’s words, a pushover.

Personally, he didn’t agree. He wasn’t a  _ pushover,  _ he just didn’t like to break the rules. What was so wrong with that? Why would he  _ want  _ his family to be cross with him, or to get into trouble? It had never given him any sort of pleasure.

Only now did he realise how huge the temptation would be.

Every year, Nanna Weasley cooked up a storm for Christmas. The rest of Hugo’s family helped to varying degrees. Aunt Fleur usually made something French with a name that he couldn’t say, but it was always tasty. Uncle Percy and Aunt Audrey bought something fancy. Uncle George bought sweets that he’d put in floating bowls that whizzed away from you when you tried to get the sweets out. Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry and the Potters would bring something they’d all tried to make together that always ended up looking squashed. 

Mum always came in with the healthy treats. Something that ‘wouldn’t rot your teeth’. Hugo ate them with a smile, because he was a good kid, and he was used to it, besides. Sweets were far and few between under his mother’s watchful eye (his Dad’s was a totally different story). It was good. It meant that he’d never been overeager for it. Instead he salivated over the sugary treats brought to Christmas by his relatives and indulged his sweet tooth in a rare rampage. 

This year, however, she’d been busy and the food-making for Christmas had been left to Dad. He was a good cook, but was more than happy to let Mum do the work when she insisted on it. She always said it was her ‘big thing’ to contribute for Christmas day. Hugo didn’t know what she’d do this year - she was at work nearly all day every day. But more importantly, Dad liked his sugar. And so, the ensuing creation had been a chocolate cake coated in icing, topped with red-and-green sweets and candy canes. It now sat on a tray with a clear lid protecting it from wandering fingers.

For once in his life, Hugo’s fingers wanted to wander. 

He did his best to ignore it. He sat at the table and ate his cereal and tried to focus on his apple juice. When he got a piece of fruit from the icebox, he averted his eyes. If he couldn’t see it, maybe it didn’t exist. But it looked  _ so good.  _ Apart from Dad’s stash, there was rarely anything sweet kept in the house. It was an itch he couldn’t scratch. He avoided the kitchen, keeping to his room and devouring a book he’d read before. Of  _ course  _ it had a whole chapter about going to a chocolate factory. Of  _ course  _ it was then Easter. Hugo’s stomach rumbled, and his leg shook. 

At dinner, he spoke twice as much as usual, pelting his mum with questions about work. Rose smirked at him over her plate of meat and vegetables, and he shoved more mashed potato into his mouth as to avoid questioning. He practically ran from the table when he was finished, trying not to think of the way chocolate melted in his mouth, and the pleasure that a sugar rush gave him. 

Later, Hugo tossed and turned in bed. Each time he shut his eyes, he could see the cake, taunting him, practically  _ begging  _ him to have a taste.  _ No,  _ he thought, trying to replace it with thoughts of his multiplication tables. But the multiply sign just looked like the ‘X’ on a map, where the cake was the treasure. Eventually, he drifted into a restless sleep, fingers twitching, until he was shaken awake. Dark eyes stared down at him, accompanied by a twisted grin.

“It’s driving you nuts, isn’t it?”

“No,” he said quickly, sitting up. Rose raised her eyebrows, crawling further down his bed, and crossed her arms. “Maybe.”

“Two more sleeps,” Rose said. “Unless you try some early. But you don’t like breaking the rules.” 

“I don’t,” he agreed, fidgeting with his blanket. “I’m tired, Rose. Let me sleep.”

“It looks really good.” Hugo pulled the blanket up to cover his face. Rose snorted, and he felt her pull at his blanket. He gripped it tighter, leaning back. She sat on his legs, pinning him down. Her fingers attacked his, worming between his skin and the blanket. “Rose!”

“I’ll help you,” she told him. “Swear. I want some too.” Hugo groaned. The few times he had been in trouble, it had been with Rose by his side - or, more accurately, Rose by his side for the committing of the offence, and then on their parents’ side when it came time for punishment. 

“No way,” he told her, and wriggled his feet. “You’re heavy.”

“So you don’t want any?” she asked. “No cake, not a slice where it’s gooey on the inside, with thick icing spread all over, with a candy cane on top that you can suck on…?”

“Stop it,” Hugo said, clapping his hands over his ears. Rose rolled her eyes, and stood up. He could feel the blood returning to his poor shins.

“Fine,” she shrugged. “But there’ll be none for you on Christmas.” He watched her leave his bedroom, but she left the door slightly ajar. There was a light on in the hallway. Hugo shut his eyes.  _ Go to sleep. She won’t really do anything. She won’t risk getting into trouble.  _ His legs still felt funny. He kicked his blanket, and let one foot free. 

That still didn’t feel right. He rolled onto his side. Now he faced the door. Even with his eyes shut, he could sense that there was light from the hallway.  _ She’s just trying to annoy you,  _ one part of him said. But the other queried,  _ what if she’s framing you? And then you’ll get into trouble, and you didn’t even get any of the cake...and as a punishment, you probably won’t be allowed any of the sweets on Christmas day, either.  _ Hugo groaned, and rolled onto his other side. Now he just faced the wall. Surely that couldn’t be a distraction. What was distracting about a wall? It was just plain grey. He opened his eyes. He couldn’t control it. It was like reverse blinking. The light reflected on the paint.  _ She’s out there now, probably having a taste. _

That was it! He couldn’t take it any longer. Hugo leapt out of the bed, only pausing momentarily to straighten his pillows, and then ran to his door. His hands curled around the doorframe, and he peeked out into the hallway. Rose’s door was open, and at the end of the hallway, his parents’ was closed. The house was deadly quiet, aside from Dad’s snores, and a light rain against the roof. Tenderly, he put crossed one socked foot over the line from carpet to wood. It landed silently. The other followed, and Hugo was in the hall, not yet incriminated, but close to. His mouth watered at the memory of the cake, and the arrangement of the round chocolate drops, and the thickness of the icing. 

He sighed. Logically, he knew he ought to stay in bed. It wasn’t worth the risk. But his legs kept on moving! He passed Rose’s room. It was empty. He’d half-expected her to be waiting there to scare her. Then again, that was more a James thing than a Rose thing. Whatever Rose did always had some big plan behind it. His pulse was quick. Hugo felt like he was walking into a trap.

Rose awaited him in the kitchen, another jumper pulled over her thick pyjamas. “I knew you’d come,” she said brightly. Immediately, all his instincts told him to run. She smoothed down her frizzy red hair, grinning.

“Are you going to frame me?” Hugo asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“No! It’s Christmas. I like to tease you, but I’m not  _ that  _ mean. I’m not Dom,” she said. “I have a plan.” He’d known she would. 

“What is it?” he asked. “I’m not going to be climbing on top of anything, or distracting Mum and Dad, or stealing anything else.” His sister snorted.

“Glad to hear it. If you were, I’d be giving you a mile berth. This isn’t going to be a big thing.”

The plan ended up being more complicated than he would’ve liked. Rose knelt and he climbed onto her shoulders with some difficulty. Her hands wrapped around his shins and held them tightly. Groaning, she stood.

“You’re heavy,” she said. Hugo tried to cross his arms, but her head was in the way. The pair of them wobbled towards the cupboard, and opened the door slowly. It creaked, and Hugo squeezed his eyes shut, certain they were about to be caught. Their breathing would give them away, or the sound of their hearts racing. But their parents didn’t come, and so the pair continued.

“Can you see it?” Rose whisper-shouted. Hugo nodded, and then remembered that his sister couldn’t see him.

“Yes.” And it was glorious! There were more candy canes than he remembered, and the chocolate drops were larger. His mouth watered. “A step closer.” Rose grunted, and took another wobbly step. Hugo nearly fell forward.

“Ow!” Rose hissed, as he nearly crushed her neck, and steadied himself on the shelf. Deep breath. After he took it in his hands, he was officially breaking the rules. “Hurry up,” Rose urged, jabbing a finger at his foot. Hugo exhaled angrily. Gently, he reached across, and cupped his hands around the side of the lid. It was right there, beneath that clear plastic. It would soon be his. He sighed dreamily.

His fingers slid beneath the tray, and he lifted. “Got it.” Rose began to step backwards. Hugo clung to the container with all his might. He wasn’t going to let it fall. He wasn’t. His heart was in his mouth. What if Mum woke up for a glass of water and saw them? What if he dropped it? Even the thought made him dizzy. But sure enough, he managed to hold on, even though his fingers felt like butter. Rose crouched down, and he stepped off.

“You’re my favourite sibling,” Rose told him, mussing his hair.

“I’m your only sibling,” he said, deadpan. And then a giggle rose in him and he had to let it out. Rose took the container from him and set it out on the kitchen bench. 

“You can open it,” she said. “Have the first taste.”

Hugo’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. Tenderly, he lifted the lid. It came off easily. He inhaled deeply. The scent was rich with chocolate and sugar and mint and smelt like Christmas. He looked to Rose. She nodded. He prodded the top of the cake with one finger. The brown icing stuck to his tip as he traced a curve through it, dodging a chocolate drop. He pulled his finger away, admiring the amount of icing he’d gotten. It was nearly as thick as his thumb. He opened his mouth, and bought the icing to his lips for a first taste.

**Author's Note:**

> Did I write nearly 2000 words about a kid wanting cake? Yes. Yes I did.


End file.
